Chapter 142

Stuart went scrounging around his room until he found the ring he was looking for. It wasn't much, just silver with a freshwater pearl, but looked like it could be an engagement ring. He returned to Thorburn's room and slid it on Teárlag's finger. When she saw it on her finger, she started sobbing again, wrenching cries which tore at Stuart's heart. He led her downstairs to the kitchen where he gathered up her servants, a mug of willow bark tea, and escorted them all out to the carriage. He handed her the tea.

"Thank you, Stuart. I'm very happy I'm going to be moving here and sharing my life with you and your lovely wife. I can't wait to move in. I'll see you in a couple days. Imagine, Mrs. Thorburn Cameron. I know it feels rushed, but so very right nonetheless. I can't believe it's happening to me. Of course, it will be a somewhat lengthy engagement, but consider all I have to look forward to. I can't stop crying, I'm deliriously happy. Please give my love to Thorburn. I'm sorry he couldn't see me off himself, but I know he's busy now."

Stuart hugged her and helped her into the carriage. She sat down, flinching as she did so until the carriage left the Keep, then lying down on the seat again, curled up in a ball.

The maid asked to see the ring and Teárlag showed it to her.

"Humph. Not much of a ring for a wealthy landowner. Kind of cheap if you ask me."

"It was his mother's wedding ring. It means more to him than gold or diamonds," Teárlag said, crying again as she saw it on her finger. "I think it's very romantic." She cried harder.

The maid shrugged her shoulders. Looked like junk to her. Nothing she'd cry about. Blackthorne had given her more after fucking her the other day. He had a small prick but she didn't mind as he'd insisted on fucking her ass.

Stuart returned to Thorburn's room after seeing Teárlag off.

"I think she'll honestly try to kill herself before she goes back to Blackthorne, brother," Stuart said. "She's right. She can't go back. If he beat her again, I'd never forgive myself. I already hate myself for sending her there this time. We took advantage of her good nature and sense of guilt."

"I feel the same. I believe she would choose to die, even if she must do it herself. I've never seen a woman so afraid of a man before."

"With good reason. She's felt only a taste of what he's capable of," Stuart reminded him. "I remember what you said to me when you saw her get in her carriage, bare chested."

"I called her a whore. I didn't realize what he'd done, that even the wearing of her dress was so painful, she'd rather show herself to her servants, than bear it. Poor lass. I'll lock her in a room before I'd let her take her own life," Thorburn said.

"We can't keep her here forever, brother; especially if you'll not wed her. It would be cruel. And she's not wrong. We can't trust our own people. It wouldn't take much of a betrayal for Blackthorne to get her back. Whoever did it would think at least, it wasn't a member of the family. Declaring you're going to marry the poor woman might make it harder for someone to betray her, but it doesn't end her risk. Her predicament means we now have a more limited window of opportunity. We have to do something before she has to report back again or she's stuck her forever and not safe even then."

"Fuck! Damn that bastard to hell!" Thorburn swore. "I'm not sure I can come up with an idea I can implement in a month."

"Hell would be too good for the man as far as I'm concerned."

Ailene slept all day after her enforced wakefulness, got up for a few hours to eat and read, then slept all night. When she woke again, she felt fine; refreshed and without the headache which still lingered last night while reading. It was still early, before dawn. Ailene heard Isobel and Frang in the adjoining room making love; their heightened breathing, Frang's low guttural groans, Isobel's softer sighs and pleased whimpers. They really did need to address the thinness of the walls, perhaps some hanging tapestries would make it less obvious. Their sounds of pleasure did make her miss Stuart even more. Her hand slipped down to her own sex. Perhaps the church frowned upon self pleasure as a sin, but what was one supposed to do when bereft of their husband, suffer? Ailene felt it better to pleasure one's self than seek the company of others. Adultery was the far worse sin in her mind.

Ailene climaxed twice as Isobel and Frang mated, suppressing her own moans, until their noises ceased. When she heard them getting up and dressing, she rose herself, reluctantly stopping before a third. Getting dressed, she went down the stairs to the kitchen and helped the cook finish preparations for breakfast, setting a table for the family and putting out plates and cups for the others to dish themselves. Bjarkë came in before the others and hugged Ailene.

"How are you, lassie?" Bjarkë inquired, taking a seat.

"None the worse for wear, uncle," she responded. "No headache or other ill effects. I'm starting to remember bits and pieces of the rest of our fight."

"Then you remember how badly you were thrashing me before you slipped up. I was hoping you'd forget that part." He smiled up at her. "Will you be joining us again then?"

"I think one more day of rest before I start training again."

"Aye, I can see that. You have to come out and watch though; see the changes we've made to our training while you were asleep. I'm quite impressed. I think it's a radical improvement to the way we've trained before. I can hardly wait to tell Thorburn. I think he'll be impressed as well. I've a feeling our previous training methods will only do for the basics of teaching weapons, and as soon as you've learned the concepts of sword play, you'll be shunted into the new training. It's a wonder we never thought of it before."

"Sounds exciting," Ailene said. "I look forward to it."

Frang and Isobel came in, hugging and kissing. You could clearly see Isobel was starting to swell around the middle. Her pregnancy was starting to show.

"I heard Frang is not as concerned about the baby as he was a couple days ago," Ailene said.

Isobel blushed. "You heard us?" She asked.

"It was hard not to. I was thinking perhaps tapestries on the inner walls might alleviate some of the noise," Ailene laughed.

"What does it matter if people know a couple is happy and in love?" Frang asked. "Better that than they scream and shout at each other."

"Hear, hear," Bjarkë laughed. "I've always enjoyed sounds of lust. It helps get one in the mood for love."

"From what I hear from the maids," Isobel said, "You don't need much help getting in the mood for love."

Bjarkë laughed again. "Not much. You wouldn't deny an old man his little pleasures would you?"

"Not so old, from what I've heard," Ailene said.

Bjarkë smiled and shrugged. "I'm available for lessons most evenings. You learn a few things you get to be my age."

Ailene swatted his head and everyone laughed. They all sat down and ate.

After they finished, Isobel, Frang and Bjarkë went out and started training. Ailene went to see what they'd done. There were now objects all over the training grounds; rocks, barrels, fences, tree limbs. The fencing students, after working with one another, would also go against the claymores, even Isobel. Sometimes, it was one on one, other times it was one against many. As soon as someone 'died', the training would stop. Frang or Bjarkë would analyze the fight, show the combatants what they might have done to save their life; dodging behind a fence or barrel, adjust the maneuvering or flow of battle, then the loser was sent off and the winner continued.

Everyone remained to watch the training, even after the loss. They could profit from the mistakes of others. Because Frang and Bjarkë had to review each individual battle to see where one could improve, there was only one primary battle, even if it was one or two against one or more. This was only the second day and already, Ailene could see the others becoming accustomed to the new conditions, more alert to their surroundings, not concentrating solely on their opponent.

Isobel lasted fairly long into the competition, finally falling when going against three opponents who surrounded her. Frang pointed out to Isobel that given how fast she was able to retreat backward, she should have retreated. She could have backed to between two objects which only allowed one or two to reach her at a time, or to a wall, where her back was protected and the three could only approach from the front, preventing her from being surrounded. She nodded in understanding and went to stand with the rest of the dead, watching and learning. When only one winner remained standing, a grizzled veteran of Thorburn's and Bjarkë's former crew who fought cannily and with total understanding of his terrain and circumstances, Ailene realized how valuable real life experience was to staying alive.

Frang and Bjarkë came up to her afterward and asked her what she thought of the training.

"It was amazing. It's like a game, almost."

"A deadly game, aye," Bjarkë said. "But I see your point."

"I can't wait to try it. I only worry about those who die early in the competition, if they will learn quickly enough to improve."

"We've thought of that," Frang said. "It's part of the reason they continue to watch how others fight, and the losers can continue to practice with one another individually, afterward to get better, but they are 'dead' and cannot rejoin the main training. It reinforces to them how easy it is to die and once dead, you're dead. You're gone and buried. No dusting yourself off and going again."

"Well, I intend to join everyone tomorrow," Ailene said. "I want to experience this new training for myself."

"I have only one requirement," Frang said. "You continue to wear your helmet and your head be off limits as a target for the next couple days, at least. I'll announce it before training tomorrow."

"Agreed. I don't want to set myself back any further."